She fidgeted about while the
men patched up the harness, and delayed their progress by her fire of
questions.
After they started, Sandy leaned back in the buggy, lost in the fog
of his unhappiness. Off in the distance he could see the twinkling
lights of Clayton. One was apart from the rest; that was Willowvale.
A sob aroused him. Annette, left to herself, had collapsed. He
patiently put forth a fatherly hand and patted her shoulder.
"There, there, Nettie! You'll be all right in the morning."
"I won't!" she declared petulantly. "You don't know anything ab-b-bout
being in love."
Sandy surveyed her with tolerant sadness. Little her childish heart
knew of the depths through which he was passing.
"Do you love him very much?" he asked.
She nodded violently. "Better than any b-boy I was ever engaged to."
"He's not worth it."
"He is!"
A strained silence, then he said:
"Nettie, could you be forgiving me if I told you the Lord's truth?"
"Don't you suppose dad's kept me p-posted about his faults? Why, he
would walk a mile to find out something b-bad about Carter Nelson."
"He wouldn't have to. Nelson's a bad lot, Nettie. It isn't all his
fault; it's the price he pays for his blue blood. Your father's the
wise man to try to keep you from being his wife.
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